I once knew of a boy
Who would always clutch
This crumpled piece of paper
Full of random scribbles
Of forgotten dreams;
He would tug my collar
Whenever he find me sitting
At the edge of an overpass
Overlooking the city
I built;
“What are you doing?”,
He would always ask me,
As tears trickle down his cheeks
While his fists tightened
In disgust;
And I would stare
At the empty air,
Paying him no heed,
Resting my palms on the asphalt,
Legs hanging in exhaustion;
“The clouds are mating,”
I would say,
“So that their kids
Would fill up this city
And play with us.”
And as droplets of water
Fall like shooting stars
Telling a wish come true
He would force a smile,
His tears camouflaging in the rain;
And we repeated this cycle,
These endless afternoons,
In a city with no people,
Only skyscrapers touching
The afterlife above;
Until one day,
He stopped coming;
My only friend,
My only companion
In this ghost town;
So I searched
The grey streets,
The dark offices,
The empty parks,
The overpass we used to meet;
And I found him
Lying near a garbage bin
In a random alley,
His thin arms cold,
His shirt, muddy;
His eyes were open,
But looking at the sky
They were empty,
Without the sparkle of tears
I used to ignore;
He forced himself
With his last breath
To tell me
One final wish:
“Be free.”
